Ever since, New York [h.s] AU

27 || AMERICANS ARE SUCH MASOCHISTS

"Oh my God!" I exclaim, squinting my eyes shut as I sucked on the sour candy Harry had given me to try. "What the hell is this?" I remark, spitting it out onto a paper towel.

Harry laughs. "It's a Warheads,"

"Americans are such masochists. Why the hell would anyone want to eat this?" I say, washing down the bitter after taste from my mouth with a water bottle. "I don't want to try anymore candy."

After breakfast, Harry and I had stopped at a grocery shop since he needed to pick up groceries so he could make dinner and on the way home, he picked up all kinds of American candy that he's been feeding me for the past twenty minutes.

"I think I should get started on dinner." He informs, standing up. I do as well and pick up my trash and follow him into the kitchen.

"What are you going to make?"

"I will be making my specialty." He says, taking out spices from the rack above the stove. "Mozzarella Chicken in Tomato sauce."

"Sounds fancy." I say, leaning over the glossy white counter. He looks to me and smirks.

"It's actually the easiest thing if you've got all the ingredients." He says, beginning to chop up some onions.

"Need any help?" I ask, washing my hands with soap.

"Not from you," He snickers. "You can't cook."

"Oh, and you're Gordon Ramsey?" I cross my arms after I dry my hands.

"I mean, no but I can follow a cooking book." Harry shrugs making me roll my eyes.

"Harry, come on! Let me help you with something, you know I can't stay still." I whine making him sigh.

"Well you're just going to have to try!" He exclaims with a taunting chuckle as I groan in annoyance. I trudge to the kitchen and sit myself down on one of the clear stools around the kitchen island, silently watching as he minced some garlic cloves.

"So where did you learn this recipe?" I ask, fiddling with a spoon.

"Well," he begins as he throws in the garlic on a pan. "I was very hungry one day and I couldn't leave the house since my address had recently been leaked and there were people just mobbing my gate. So I looked on google for something easy and quick and sure enough, mozzarella chicken came up."

"It must be tiring having people take pictures of you, huh? When those pictures of you and I on that magazine showed up, I felt so uneasy, having people you don't know take pictures without your consent. It made me realize how lucky I am to live a normal life."

"You don't think I live a normal life?" Harry asks, closing the lid on the pan before turning to me.

"What's normal to you, isn't normal to everyone else that isn't famous, Harry." I say, watching as he bit the inside of his cheek. "Do you miss it?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "Miss what?"

"Just, being able to go for a quiet walk around the neighborhood, or going to a late night run to the corner shop?"

Harry huffs out a breath while standing up straight. "Sure I do, I mean it's nice to be able to catch a break once in a while. I'd be lucky if one person doesn't recognize me in the street you know?"

"Do you think you would've done things differently? Like do you think you would've stayed back home and done something else with your life?" I ask.

"I know I would've done a lot of things differently," he pauses. "But I think that if I never came to America, I'd be pretty much unhappy with my life. You of all people know how much I've wanted this, the only thing I would change now, would be being able to go places where I don't get mobbed." He chuckles.

In a way, I felt for him. He's got what he's always wanted, but he lost the one thing everyone is privileged to have; privacy.

"Well," he takes a breath. "Foods done." He says as he rubs his hands together, putting a smile on his face before grabbing plates off the cabinet.

—

an update, yay