Honest || h.s.

Veduta & Prints

A/N: WHATS UP P

LOVE YOU, THANKS FOR STICKING AROUND, AND HERE'S YOUR NEXT CHAPTER OF THIS TRASH STORY

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Harry.

The city never fails to fascinate me. I try to keep to myself as much as possible when I go to public places like this, so that I don't bother anyone with my stutter or cause a scene with a bout of sudden and severe honesty. But the people, the pedestrians, the tourists, the shoppers, the shopkeepers, the waiters, the baristas--I love them. I'll never see them again, but I love them.

Manchester isn't as iconic as London, but it still enraptures me. I walk along the sidewalks after Mum, Skylar gripping my fingers alongside my gait. I'm red in the face, I know, but I'm trying not to think about it too much. If I dwell, my breathing becomes faster and uneven. It's stupid. I'm being ridiculous. She's pretty. She wore a sun dress covered in blue flowers, a boat neck, an Audrey Hepburn type of dress. I like it a lot, because while it could be fancy, she makes it look casual. Sophisticated. Sophisticated in flowers.

I warm at the thought, taking a small step to avoid treading on the cracks in the sidewalk.

Skylar hums alongside me, swinging our joined hands as if it were normal. I know Mum hasn't noticed yet, but I'm hoping she won't. I wouldn't hear the end of it. In some ways, though, I suppose that would be okay.

People pass by, some with umbrellas or rain coats. My purple hoodie is hanging on my arm, and even though I'm getting chilly, I save it for when Skylar might need it. I don't know if she'll be comfortable with that, and it kind of freaks me and gives me butterflies out when I think about it, but I'd absolutely let her wear it.

Is that a boyfriend-ish thing to do?

I've only ever had one girlfriend, in grade four. It was before the mental illness really started to affect me, when I was a normal young hooligan. I was a ladies' man. I mean it. I had tons of girls chasing me around the playground, wanting to put their fingers in my curly mane of hair.

I chuckle as I remember, and Skylar's fingers shift pleasantly against mine. "What's funny?" She asks, her eyes roaming to mine.

"I was a ladies man," I blurt, then flush red, looking immediately away. "In... pr-rimary school, o-of course."

She giggles and squeezes my palm. "I believe it."

I don't know if she's joking or not, but I focus on keeping my mouth shut. No use scaring her off, since she's stuck with me until we get back to Holmes Chapel tonight.

The rain begins as we drift inside a clothes store. Mum heads for the purse and shoes section, but I stand awkwardly by the window, pulling my fingers from Skylar's. She doesn't seem to notice; she's glancing around at the merchandise, chewing her lip. It's not to her taste, I can tell, and not mine either, mostly because it's a store designed for—well, to be frank, it's a store designed for women in my mum's age-range.

I stare out at the street as it slowly becomes drenched in falling water, wishing I could stand outside. I don't want to leave Skylar, and I'm not certain yet if she's the type of person to like rain, so I stay put. She drifts around the jewelry section for a moment, but soon finds her way back to me, messing with the pocket watch around her neck. Our reflections in the glass are faint, but in the flat light from the clouds, her eyes are much more vibrant. I inhale softly.

"Have you been here before?" I ask conversationally, silently congratulating myself when my words fall out in a fluent way. I quickly add, "Not to this store, I mean Manchester."