anobrain // narry au

all

chapter twenty-seven. a dream within a dream.

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Some feelings never really go away, we just tend to ignore them. I intentionally ignore them .. until I can't anymore. Psychology says that's normal for human beings – the state of in-denial.

I ALREADY REGRET BEING a teenage boy. With the weird and abrupt feelings that differ from day-to-day. The regularly morning boners, and the fact that I'm stood here in front of the only Starbucks Coffeehouse in town because I'm craving a White Chocolate Mocha Frappe. And I can't help it because boys have their needs just like girls. Especially flaming homosexual boys -- kidding, that's so stereotypical.--

The brunet haired boy in his Starbucks uniform jumper is already in my peripheral eyesight. Laughing amiably with a customer before taking her order. My stomach sinks and my heart clenches at the sight. But with my pride at an uncommon high along with my cravings, I continue to walk further into the coffee shop because I honestly am desiring a cold frappe.

I gulp before I reach Harry, thankful a counter separates the two of us.

His eyes instantaneously widen when I stare at him. Trying to keep my thoughts mild instead of how they usually bloom and bloom and bloom about him like growing flowers. His aura changes, foreseeably then I manage to wave shyly just to keep the peace for an interim moment as I order.

My hand, firstly, runs through my wet fringe. "Grande White Chocolate Mocha Frappe, please," I quiver. Harry nods and quickly complies to my order when he grasps a grande sized frappe cup from the shelf beside him. Next asking if I want to order anything else. I easily decline.

"Can we please talk, Niall?" I hear him say, murmur actually. My eyes snaps up to the naturalistic greenish eyes that share a copper brown to them and other swirls of ambers.

I almost want to speak. To hear Harry ramble about what has been going on in his life this past week. About a topic that makes him confident and content. I really want to but I don't. If I budge., it's bad.

"It's okay, Harry," I muster a kind smile. The confidence I've always envied from my old best friend whips through me like cold air on a summers day. I genuinely like the odd feeling. "I'll get over it. Just give me some time."

I try to walk away to the waiting line but Harry stops me. With the sudden boom of his voice. "That kiss wasn't suppose to happen," he says, nearly shouts through the thin air surrounding us. Luckily there's not much customers in the Starbucks shop to witness this, which is a first. "I was talking to Liam then he leaned --"

He becomes inaudible when I start walking further and further away from my old best friend, my boyfriend of no longer than several days, Harry. A feeling of apprehension overwhelms me when I think of Liam and Harry together. Together in general — outside, in a car, at school, in my bedroom together kind of in general.

I hear Harry shout my name out once more, but I ignore his calls whilst grabbing my craved frappe. With not even a spared glance I depart from one of the most popular coffeeshops in town.

I GET HOME IMMEDIATELY only to open my laptop. To research more universities and begin searching for presents to get for my small family for the upcoming Christmas holiday. Luckily for me, the not so punk rock Punk Rock budgets covers the plans and decisions I have for the exciting holiday. Plus my mother never has worked for Christmas —

Ever since Cara and I were younger. It's been a day when everything in our everyday lives pauses for quality time. It's my favourite time in the world. It's great to catch up and see how everyone is doing. Hear more about accomplishments my mother and Cara set when they were away from home.

And although I never have anything big to share, I can't ever help but not feel happy. Be happy for my family. The Horan–Delevingne's.

I consider buying Louis a present also, for always being a good friend to me. Through the thickness and its thin. Louis is more like an extra family member than a simplistic label society gives if you're close to someone but they aren't blood-related. He's family and that is that. Plus he's the only one, out of four, who hasn't made an effort to piss me off for the last month. Which is, in to, a double plus.

It's always complicated buying Cara and my mother presents for Christmas. They're wealthy and well known all over. They make more money than I regularly do twice in one month. They make more in one day than I would in five years. All the same the thought is what counts, and I get the job done. Ordering Louis lenses for his Canon that he can add to his camera collection for when he does move away for next years school semester.

After that accomplishment that had taken hours of choosing for Louis's exquisite taste, my doorbell abruptly rings out. And since no one except I am home as usual, I have no other choice but to get the door. With fast feet I open the wood. My eyes widen at the sight of Harry standing on my doorstep. Towering over my shorter figure with an unforeseeable expression painting the beautiful features upon his face.

His Starbucks uniform is still on his body from earlier today when I seen him. Hours and hours and hours ago. Harry's eyes are shining through the sunset painting the once blue sky, surprisingly it blends well with those naturalistic coloured eyes of greens and browns and a shining amber colour. I've hardly ever noticed that before. It's enticing —entrancing like a parallel universe of aesthetically pleasing jade trees; staring into Harry's eyes.

It's transparent and these crystalline grey sparkles in his eyes become prominent. And Harry's more beautiful than a chemical combustion. He has more flames to him than water and carbon dioxide combining together only to burst into orange flames. Harry Styles is beautiful. So unique. In his basic Starbucks jumper and those hideous brown boots. And those suffocating skinny jeans. His hair sweaty and it looks sticky, but he's beautiful looking. Like an undiscovered model.

Yet. I've discovered him.

Although I'm no one special. To him, at least.

I'm lost in this sudden trance I can barely miss the uttered words Harry speaks. "If you don't care to listen to me, listen to this." So close to my lips as his hand rests on my cheeks. So, so, so close to me. I can feel the exhalation exiting through his nostrils. Then Harry's lips move in to my own to kiss me.

Like the reckless and thoughtless and entranced teenage boy I am, disregarding all of the conflicts and tribulations surfacing between myself and Harry – I kiss him back. Already regretting the consequences that will explode automatically afterwards.

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Well what do you think is going to happen between narry now since they've kissed? ooh. Iammmmkindofexcited for what's next. Let's get it, whoop!