half of my heart // hs ON HOLD

fourteen

606 Days Before

"Stay," he frowned with glued edges fumbling into the ground as I slipped Harry's old gray sweater that was stretched too far around my neck, revealing my collar bones- and I could almost laugh at the simplicity of the sweater but how perfect Harry wore it- and I grinned sheepishly before grabbing my hair from under the neck of the fabric, pulling it out to lay on top of my falling back before shrugging gently, "just one more hour."

"Nick, I have to go." I sighed, because this was the third time this week I've left Nick's overly priced home to pick up my life with the falling apart Harry, my words put so well that nobody knew how I spent my life running between two men, it was a shame.

With the steaming brown blanket with the fuzz pulled out in several spots, his torso down was wrapped into the warmth of his own skin while he stepped past me with a pissed slash knowing slash upset slash sad slash misunderstood face as he took the spiraled stairs two at a time, his calf muscles smiling into his lower legs, and I frowned even deeper, because I didn't love the way his legs molded when he moved, I didn't love the way his skin got brighter when wrapped in a dark blanket, I didn't love the way his hair was fizzed up from the bed, and I didn't love the way the sweat from my skin felt like cold venom, not hot lust.

And as I watched Nick hold the door wide open, his medium sized hands turning white with the anger of his sleepless bed losing it's meaning as I took my time stepping out- he knew.

There wasn't a pain in my legs, in my lower body, no pain that indicated any kind of sexual advancement in the relationship I seemed to share with Nick, because suddenly I grew to feel useless around the tanned skinned boy with eyes deep and beaded with a perfectly fit face, it was almost sculpted to disappoint you, because I had seen more beautiful, so beautiful that I was leaving the million dollar home to see it, yet I still slept with the man holding the door for me to leave his cave.

Harry. He was all I could think about as I was being fucked by someone I can't tell you a thing about, yet it was this fake love I produced for him, and I couldn't help but feel like a god dammed bitch riding the waves into hell.

And so I rode home alone, alone in the back of a taxi with Harry on my mind. He was my destination and Nick was my current location.

It went like this for days, weeks, it was this never ending journey. I would meet my adventures end and sulk back to point a just so I could hurry back to point b and do it all over again, and I can't tell you that it changed, because that would be a cold hearted lie.

So I was wrapped into lies upon lies as Harry's lower body sunk into the red leather chipping under our own skin as Jelly Bean, the decaying yet fuzzier cat to ever live, rolled around in a ball as Harry watched with an amused yet blank stare. He knew just as much as Nick, and it was enough to have an unwanted silence cut off your circulation over pizza, but it was completely opposite for the two, Nick was the winter and kept the cold around and Harry was the summer and kept the sunshine and smiles swimming, and that's why I spent hours on end with the boy that let the butterflies keep on flying.

-

"Who was your first kiss?" I mumbled in between cotton candy as we escaped the down town Ireland with bright lights lining the Ferris wheel surrounding little bumper rides that Harry and I laughed about before walking right past the whole damn fair.

Harry laughed before grabbing the skinny stick of sweet pink cotton before allowing it to dissolve on the buds of his life before speaking, taking seventy four seconds to breath, and that gave me time to admire the pink sticky substance lining the inside of his red lips, stained with strawberry flavored euphoria.