free run | h.s

two

A dwindling month had passed since Niall had mentioned free running to Harry, and since then Harry had been practicing every day for as long as he possibly could.

Zayn had taught him how to jump from objects to other objects, no matter the shape or size. Climbing a lamp post? Piece of cake. Shimmying down that drainpipe in record speed? Easy. He was beginning to get advanced - Zayn was astonished at his progress.

"Harry," the older lad called to grab his attention, "how about some... serious stuff? Like, buildings and rooftops? You don't need harnesses or any of that shit."

Harry paused for a second. If he made one wrong jump, he'd plummet to his death in seconds. But he wasn't naïve enough to make mistakes like that. Harry was careful and quick.

With a nod, he replied, "Definitely."

And Zayn grinned, taking off down the street and to the closest building he could spot. A school, it looked like. It wasn't too tall, yet it wasn't too small either. Just the right height to start the curly-haired, gangly boy on.

Just like a cat climbing a tree, Zayn and Harry skilfully manoeuvred to the roof, hands grabbing any nook or cranny they could find: drainpipes, cracks in the brickwork, window ledges. They eventually reached the roof of the building, neither of them even out of breath.

"That was amazing," Harry praised, glancing at the rest of the surrounding city. People were still busying around on the streets below, but rush hour had already been and gone, leaving the streets of England's capital slightly subdued.

"Yeah," Zayn agreed. "This is why I love free running. Look how much more you can be exposed to by just taking your head out of the sand that is London and looking around. These people don't know how lucky they are to have places like this."

Harry couldn't have agreed more, as he smiled softly at the view. How did he not know about this sooner? He felt as if he had been rejuvenated suddenly and now everything was perfectly in place.

"Do you think we disturbed the classes in the school?" Harry asked, letting out a breathy chuckle, turning to Zayn.

The darker haired lad shrugged in response, eyebrows raising, "I don't think so. Anyways, who cares?"

Harry laughed, "Once a rebel, always a rebel."

A few moments of silence followed suit, both of them revelling in the peace and quiet before Harry cleared his throat.

"I should be getting back to Niall, I promised him I'd bake later. Said he's running out of stock," he stated, beginning to walk away from his Yorkshire-bred mate.

"I'm gonna stay up here for a while. Tell Niall I might drop by later for a cup of tea or something," Zayn replied, watching Harry ready to leap down to the ground and be on his way. "Oh, and Harry?"

The younger boy turned wordlessly, waiting for Zayn to say something.

"Be careful on your way down."

And with one last curt nod, Harry was rapidly descending down the building and onto the floor, quickly and hastily setting off back to Niall.

Harry couldn't help but smile at his excited best friend, shimmying around the kitchen giddily, helping Harry clean up the flour that managed to escape all over the kitchen.

"I can't believe you jumped up a building today, Haz! I wish I could do something like that. Mum would probably kill me though, I'm as clumsy as they come," he laughed loudly, continuing to scrub the dishes and trays that Harry had used when he was doing his magic.

Harry adjusted his flour-dusted apron around his hips, bending to ice the batch of cupcakes he'd obtained from the oven just minutes prior, "Yep. You're probably the clumsiest person I have ever come across, Ni. But, I would never want to change that, actually. I rather like having a ditsy friend with me all the while. Makes me look cooler."

Niall suppressed a giggle and punched Harry in the arm, receiving a playful warning that he'd make Harry mess up the icing on the cakes. The blonde just rolled his sky blue eyes and finished up cleaning the kitchen. When most things were absolutely spotless, he resulted to just sitting at the island and watching Harry decorate aimlessly, still being able to make it look professional without even trying.

"These cakes are brilliant, mate! How do you do it? When mum let me take over this place, I could never get the sponge to rise or anything! Goddamn you and your natural knack for baking."

Harry shrugged, brushing off the residue flour from his forehead and cheeks with the back of his hand and removing the apron, "I don't know, really. My mum used to make cakes with me a lot when we were younger. I guess I learned from her."

"Well, I'm totally caked-out. Do you mind locking up before you go upstairs? It would save me a bunch of time. Thanks Hazza, see you in the morning!" And with that, the clumsy blonde scurried out of the shop and back to his home just a few blocks away.

Harry sighed in fatigue and checked all of the doors and windows before setting the alarm and going upstairs and straight into bed; he vowed mentally to have a shower in the morning.

And as he lay - tragically alone - in his cold and large bed, he couldn't help but still feel a small part of him was missing.

Six hours later, Harry was awake bright and early and making his way down the street towards the familiar school building - he felt more than ready to propel his body into the high skies above and to leap from one place to the next. It was like he was a bird, flying free from the life he was caged from for so long.

But he had to wait for a while, just as the students made their way into six more hours of hell - their faces were the perfect pathetic fallacy of thunder.

Although there was this one girl Harry noticed that had the most innocent entirety he'd ever seen. Her pale skin juxtaposed beautifully against her long, loose chestnut curls and her chocolate brown irises and her rouged-red lips.

He watched her tiny frame dodge through the crowd of miserable souls, looking like a lost little rabbit in a pack of large wolves. The older man guessed that if she was still in school, she must have been just sixteen years old - seventeen, even? He couldn't be sure. But as soon as he watched her completely disappear into the depths of the building, he made his way up the side of the school and followed her every movement, waiting until she was comfortably sat in her designated classroom. He knew he couldn't hang around for much longer (literally; he was hanging from the side of a building, it wouldn't be long before somebody called the police), but he felt a pang in his stomach when his eyes finally detached from her entirety and carried on ascending up the building.

By around lunch time, Harry had dashed and hopped aimlessly from building to building, his muscles bulging from the new-found strength and the wind combing affectionately through his soft, corkscrew curls. He was sure he was standing atop of some office building right now, but he felt absolutely liberated. It was a bizarre feeling - yet, he'd never felt so at home. He didn't even feel at home in his own home all those years ago.

A few more minutes were wasted in awe of the picturesque view before Harry decided to move onwards and upwards - although he was beginning to worry slightly with the fact that he couldn't even concentrate on the task in hand, his mind clouded with thoughts of the mysterious girl, who's porcelain white smile seemed to be brighter than the peaking point of the sun at midday. God, Harry thought with a disappointed head shake, when on Earth did I get so awfully cheesy? I'm officially cringeworthy.

Harry frustratingly ran calloused digits through his very-Belgian-chocolate tresses and decided it would be best if he clambered down to the buzzing streets below. Once he had found a ladder that reached to the floor, he slid down and immediately made a beeline for home. At least, his second home. The skies and the clouds above were his first home.