half of my heart // hs ON HOLD

sixteen

596 Days Before

Sour sweat glistened against his tanned skin, my legs intertwined beneath the gray sheets, matching the change into his eyes, his lips were purple with hickied kisses, my knees sore and lacking beauty, bruises just signs of insomnia. He didn't really have the glowing edges like Harry, no he didn't even have the soft butter lips that curled upwards after even an insult, no, Nick had crimson lips with purple spots with sparkling white teeth that cupped his bottom fold, his tan skin was muscled and his creases were all dark and rough.

Nick didn't smile afterwards, his eyes didn't flutter open when I moved around too much with amazement in his eyes, frustration and razor sharp intakes overtook Nick, and the second I realized the beat of his heart counted to the same heartbeat as every other time, I tiptoed out of his bedroom, taking a spiral step at a time, making sure to grab the cold pizza box on my way out, the sunshine leaving me no wonders of the mascara stained above my webbed lids.

It was a little passed midnight and I was almost concerned that I would be left with my wicked skull and my unprocessed worthless thoughts alone, so as I held the almost full pizza box in my hand, my other fingers chipping nervously slash furiously at the dark black paint, my knuckled white before I knocked, waited seven seconds, silence, knock, wait twenty three seconds, wait, knock, slowly walk away.

I counted endlessly and with every second getting closer to two hundred, I took one step farther away until I was half way to the sidewalk when the door creaked open to reveal the most wonderful sight in the world, my fingers quickly rubbed my under eyes for the seventh time in five minutes, my purple eyebags threatening to spill over my cheeks even farther than they already were as my bun fell across the back of my neck, Nick not even close to my mind, nor the sex he was sleeping off currently alone in his loveless bed.

His abdomen was wonderfully naked, tattoos milky around the muscular bottom, light gray sweatpants gently low against his hips, dark navy underwear popping through the waist band, his inked arms crossing his body with slivered shivers before I chuckled at the sight of his half closed eyes, his curls flattened to his forehead, yet beautiful.

"Sorry, I can leave if you want to sle-"

"What kind of pizza is that?" He groaned and I nearly shit myself with the anticipation of wanting to go down on him and wake up to his voice hoarse, but I could never let the fire shine through my eyes as I shrugged before walking closer.

"Pepperoni but you could p-pick them off, I mean if you want, I'm not saying you have to eat the pizza, I'm sure you are tired, I know you hate pepperonis, you should just go back to sleep, it's not that far of a walk if I leave no-" for the second time in a row, Harry had stopped me from digging my own grave.

"Walk? Are you fucking loony?" his arms wrapped around the air in a questioning matter, his eyes wide with the wild life that I always loved to see swimming to the surface as he walked down the three small steps towards me on the long walk way, "it's bloody fifteen minutes, and that's just by car, get your ass in the house."

I praised him for not not holding the door open for me, but for grabbing my wrist and pulling me back to his hot hot skin, it was steaming against my red vneck that hung to my thighs, our hug long lasted and bubbled a whole new era.

"Did you really say pepperonis?" He chuckled, swinging out the chocolate barstool for me before grabbing the half carton of milk and a napkin, sliding in beside me.

"It's plural of pepperoni." I spoke ended aimlessly, taking a deep swig of the thin milk before biting into the cold pizza, watching Harry stare into the pepperoni for minutes, "just pick it off."

"You know what I hate Ronnie?" He whispered, almost fully awake now, his fingers dropping the pizza, rubbing against the crumbled napkin before fast-forwarding to the part where he ran his nails through his hair before frowning at me.

"What do you hate Harry?"

"I hate people," he responded immediately, "we define ourselves by the best that is in us, not the worst that has happened to us."

He passed to stare at the large pepperonis covering the cold pizza in front of him in the cold greasy cardboard box.

"I hate uncontrollable sadness, I hate tight sweaters, I hate when girls wear makeup, I hate the sound of goodbye, I hate going to bed early, I hate having regret, and I really really hate Nick."

I laughed for minutes before stopping quickly, "I hate tea, I hate lipstick, I hate all candles but vanilla, I hate matching socks, I hate blank walls, I hate silent car rides, and I really really hate my mom."

"Why do you hate your mom?"

"Why do you hate Nick?"

He paused, staring at the stained cardboard box for moments before ignoring the gaze that would connect us, and spoke softer than intended, "he doesn't treat you like royalty."

My mind could only be left with the wires that cut off and the wonderful feeling of finally being respected, and so I took a small swig of the milk to hide the huge smile peeping through hells world.

"She blamed me for my brothers death." I had never, ever, in my whole entire life shared those six words in all or my life raises my speechless mind- because now, Harry was apart of me.

"You had a brother?" He was curious and I was just a mistake, always was and always will be.

I sighed, "Yeah, Sammy was my best friend, we were kinda attached at the hip, but things rolled down the hill quickly I guess."

"If you don't mind me asking, how did he die?"

And that was when it got scary.

"I could hear what they said, but I never let that simplicity get the way of me, because sammy would hate that. Wouldn't you?

they called me names a lot, 'dead boys sister' was my person favorite, it had a deathly ring to it and I pretended for once, I was a walking corpse I'm a school full of fleshly bones.

I miss you Sammy.

what is it like up there?

does your head hurt? I really hope it doesn't, I don't think aspirin would really help honestly, but maybe if I took enough of them I would be able to hear your answer"

Was Harry my best friend? Would I ever let him into the tornado that fluttered into my room and ruined ever piece of furtiture to every set sail? Was Harry my best friend?

I looked to see my best friend, he was shinning and I couldn't help but crumble inside, because I mean dammit, he looks like a fucking star and it's like I am some kind of meteor cutting off his tips. And he was giving me that look like, hey, I'm not a dick, actually, I am such a gentleman that I'm not even going to ask you this, but I really want to know everything about your brother. I want to know his middle name, his age, his favorite color, his last words, why he died, why your mom thinks it is your fault, and everything that created you, but how the hell do I answer that in one big swoop.

I trusted Harry, I trusted him.

"Sammy died in a car crash several years ago on his way to buy me eggs, my mom always said that if I never would have tried to make brownies that day and been so fucking clumsy and dropped the eggs on the floor, Sammy would be alive." I fucking lied through my teeth.

It got silent.

Too silent.

Harry lifted a palm on the small of my back that hollowed in like a damp log and smiled reassuring before simply stating six words that made me realize, Harry was my best friend. 

"You know what else I hate?" He question, and I asked him what he hated and with all seriousness and a mix of corks beauty, he got closer and leaned his head on my shoulder, "I hate eating fucking cheese pizza all the damn time."