𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 → 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ✓ ¹

EIGHTEEN ; glass guitar

( Chapter Eighteen )

GLASS GUITAR

real life ft. Harry !

"Are ya sure you'll be fine without us?" 

"Yes for the millionth time, go celebrate your birthday. You only turn 18 once." I affirmed, pushing Niall out of the doorway for good measures. 

"Are you sure-" 

"Yes, Ni. Go have fun with the 'Jame Cordan.' We will still be here when you get back." Diana insisted, fully closing the door behind the older boys. 

"You would think he was leaving us for war." She giggled, gently sitting down on the sofa crossing her arms across her chest.

"Rough topic, you are from across the pond after all so you should know."

"Tea."

"Too far mate."

"Mate. I think you'll live my love." 

"Ouch Diana kinda hurt. Hear that? That's the sound of my heartache." 

"Oh, I'm sorry Harry. You poor soul." 

"Whatever American, do you want some tea or what?" I asked her, moving towards the kitchen towards the already boiling kettle. 

"For sure." She called out from the living room. 

I opened up the cabinet full of mugs and grabbed a random white one for myself and Diana's 'special' mug, as she calls it, for her.

It was merely pink with gold lettering that read Tracy. 

Nobody was allowed to use it. 

Ever. 

Diana barely requested anything from us having to do with her stuff, so this simple request was something we all abided by. 

"Thank you, Harry," Diana said as I handed her her cuppa. 

"It's no hassle." 

"You know I was thinking about how weird things are over here." Diana thought out loud.

I looked over to the short girl, "What do you mean? The UK isn't weird."

"Um. . . yes, it is, the TV licenses, the way the traffic lights work and don't even get me started on the fact that you have to flip a switch to allow electricity in an outlet." She rollered her eyes at the topic, "It seems pretty absurd to me."

"I mean, I guess. It's not too bad. . . I guess it's all I've known. America is weird though. It such a culture shock being over there."

"Your telling me, I have lived there for all 17 years old my life. It's pretty trash."

A couple of minutes passed before I broke the comfortable silence that loomed around us. "Whatsamattaferu?"

"What?"

". . . what your problem? What is bugging you?"

"Shouldn't we...I don't know...be checking in on them?"

"No, let them enjoy their night. You wouldn't want people interrupting your night out won't you?"

"Yeah, you're right. It's just weird, ya know?" 

"I understand Harry. How about this, let's do something ourselves." 

Before I could ask what she meant by this, she hopped off the sofa and ran to her room, or at least as well as she could with fuzzy socks on.