Crazy | {h.s}

Not a ninja; Sniffles

Another day, another dollar.

I remind myself, pulling the black Six Strings t-shirt over my head.

Another day of suffering.

Another day without Harry.

I cringe at the horrible thoughts. How is it possible to be so infatuated with someone when you've only known them a month?

I haven't even unpacked all my boxes since moving in, but I'm more concerned about seeing the little brunette punk. The little, clumsy, brunette punk.

(the little shit nearly took his eye out when showing me how (not) to juggle last week)

(he was using fucking spoons)

(and somehow managed to break a floor tile after dropping them all)

I pull on my typical converse I've had one or six years too many, and head out the door with a sweatshirt in hand. (since it's nearly fall and maybe a jacket would be good)

----------

The air is crisp and the wind is sharp, making me shiver and shake even with the sweatshirt on.

It takes me twenty minutes until I notice a little bird has followed me here.

I'm at a loss for how I didn't notice him nosily falling and stumbling throughout the streets on our way here, but after I saw him peaking his head out behind a bookcase, then quickly looking the other direction when I made eye contact, it was obvious what he had done.

"I just-- I though maybe I could be sneaky like a spy or a ninja or something and follow you. I wanted to know where you worked and I thought this way would be a lot more fun than just asking you." Harry smiles.

"I didn't really do that well anyway. I bumped into a lady and she spilled her hot coffee all over me. I think I burned all three of my chest hairs off."

He brings his hand to his chest, plucking the t-shirt that has matted to his skin from the scalding coffee, off his body.

"Poor baby. You're a clumsy thing, aren't you?"

"I'm not a clumsy thing. I'm a person. A clumsy person. And I'm not a baby."

I pull him by his damp hand into the woman's restroom at the back of the shop.

"A clumsy giraffe."

"Why am I always a giraffe? Why can't I be a ninja?" He pouts, gorgeously pink lips on full display.

"Because you're tall and clumsy and cute like a giraffe. Not like a ninja at all." I smile.

"Fine."

I grab an extra employee t-shirt from the locked closet I luckily have a key for and hand it to Harry.

"Here. You can be an employee for the day. Give me your dirty shirt, I'll put it in the back by my stuff."

He nods excitedly, "Sick! An employee for the day?! The whole day?"

I nod.

Although he's excited and practically pissing his pants in joy, he seems hesitant to change in front of me so I divert my eyes from his body and pretend to be busy. Folding and unfolding the clean, black shirt over and over until Harry has taken off his dirty one and reaches out for it.

I sneak a glance up at him when I hand him the clean shirt, admiring how beautiful he is and the tattoos he has inked on him.

(lots and lots of beautiful tattoos)

I've always loved tattoos and they way they looked. Even if they are silly or pointless, they show who you are and where you've been and are permanent reminders. It helps that Harry is fucking gorgeous, too. The millions of tattoos just add to that God-like look of his.

He's just the perfect mixture of toned muscles and tan skin (kinda. as tan as you can get for a brit in winter but we can dream) and a brown snail-trail of hair (I wonder if his pubes are curly) running from his navel to below the band of his jeans.

I realize I've been staring a bit too long when he clears his throat. I look up to him with innocent, unknowing eyes and a smile.

----------

Much to Harry's displeasure, he actually had to do work if he wanted to stay at Six Strings for the day with me. He couldn't just follow me around like a lost puppy or bang on the drums display like he wanted to.

(is he 5 or 25 again?)

So he leaves after an hour, grabbing his damp t-shirt and wrapping it around his head as he made a run for it in the falling snow.

In the time that he was here he managed to set a world record for the amount of questions asked in one hour.

Why do you work here if it's so far away from home?

You can play guitar?

Why's it called Six Strings?

How long have you worked here?

Do you like it here?

How much do you get paid?

What days do you work?

Do you have to work on weekends?

Do they sell banjos here?

Can I make you a musical painting?

What is the point of having a blue violin?

Did you know I used to play drums?

I love Harry, but sometimes he's just a smidgen too much for me to handle.

----------

"What did I tell you Harry? I knew you should have put on a jacket. It England, what did you expect?" I scold him.

He just sniffles through his nose and sinks lower into the covers. Apparently, Harry didn't have the best of luck walking home yesterday either. It started raining half way on him, forcing him to walk home in the cold rain.

"I know. I'm sorry, bird. Make me soup?"

"I have work!"

As much as I would absolutely love to sit here and take care of a sick, sniffly, vulnerable Harry, work is what keeps me living in this flat.

"No! I'm sick, stay to take care of me! I'm dying, I probably have hypothermia or cancer or something."

"I think you can take care of yourself for the day. I'll come over tonight."

He rolls his eyes and sits up straight, "I can't even take care of myself when I'm not sick, stay here to help me. Someone needs to feed the fish."

"I can't skip work--"

"I'll make you another painting! Please, bird." He blurts out, then coughs violently and then grips his throat at the pain.

"Oi. I need medicine. And can you play me a song on your guitar? It's the only way I'll get better." He pulls a sad face on me and crack.

I sigh and throw my head back in a groan. It so hard to say no to his red nose and puffy eyes.

"Fine, Har. Fine, I'll stay."

im sorry I haven't updated in eight million years im so so srry ok

i don't like this chappie either but I hope you do

ok bye

(also i picked a good time for this chapter to go up cause Hurry is sick in real life right now so)

(also I use parenthesis a lot)

(Harry's pretty artwork on side)