Impulse ➳ h.s. (On hold)

12. Aches

Jane's POV

"Do you remember the band I mentioned?" Emerald green eyes that I've grown fond of stare back at me in question.

"Of course, '5 Seconds of Summer'" I lean my head onto his ink laced bicep.

"Yeh, the rest of the boys land today and we have a show in late August, but we start practicing in maybe two days..." he rubs the stubble on his chin.

"Wonderful..." my word fails horribly at filling in a long pause.

"Uh-so... would you, um, want to come watch us rehearse? There will be other people there it's kind of a welcome back thing."

"See I'd love to, but the part about 'there will be other people' frightens me ." It would just be another opportunity for me to make an antisocial fool out of myself.

"Please." We reach the inside of our dorm building.

"No, sorry bandanna boy." I tease further.

"Fine you leave me no choice." He says just as we reach our floor.

"Isn't there something that's supposed to happen after one sta-" I'm cut off by the feeling of his arms wrapping around my thighs and throwing me on his shoulder.

"That's all you got? Really? It's okay I like it better this way, the world makes more sense upside down. Wow, and I get a perfect view of your ass, hot." I finally crack and laugh at my sudden comment.

"Thanks, I get that a lot." He plops me down on his mattress.

"Oh British people and there narcissist personalities." I joke.

"That's an utter lie!"

"I know, but I know you hate when I stereotype Brits." I involuntarily raise an eyebrow.

"No, in fact your teasing is what draws me to you." The mattress shapes to his body as he lies down on it and turns in my direction.

"Stop smiling at me."

"No."

"Ass."

"What about my ass?"

"No. Stop." I wind up returning the smile.

Peace, calm, and serenity settles deep within me. All because of a man who smiles despite knowing my immoral ways, while all I know is his name.

Harry's POV

"Hey Harry?"

"Yes?" I feel the weight of her head lift off my chest and my eyes open.

"You know how you asked me to summarize myself? Well I want you to summarize yourself. Please?" The question I've been dreading for her to ask is finally spoken.

Summarizing myself means bringing up the past. I've abandoned the past in a secluded area in hopes of it to not pierce through my thoughts again.

"I'm Harry. Around these halls I'm known as the 'fuck up'. People have all these expectations for me and I just can't meet them. 'Harry should always act a certain way because he's in a band' I always fuck up somehow. I'm either too nice, or too much of an arsehole. 'Harry should get serious'. 'Harry should loosen up a little'. 'Harry should dress this way, Harry should this, Harry should that." I let her know only what would be appropriate enough.

"Expectations are the root of all aches." She frowns.

"That makes sense. After all the disappointment and disapproval you get bombarded with after not doing well enough you start to hurt. A little piece of you just goes to waste."