bare [h.s.]

Beautiful Boy

"No way," I gape, stealing a fry
from Harry's plate whilst listening to Niall, his blonde best friend, carry on a story about one of their many adventurous weekends.

"It's true," Harry smiles at me,
leaning forward with both elbows
placed against the counter.

"So anyway, I'm sitting there
with a beer in one hand and a
chicken head in the other,
when this dumb bastard..."
Niall rambles on, waving both hands frantically in the air for effect.

But I just smile at him
while my mind is somewhere else;
on someone else.
And my mind is set on the
lanky boy seated beside me,
who purses his lips and
furrows his brows in
concentration on his buddy's story.
I watch his lips spread into
an open grin when Niall tells
of a humorous event,
how they contort into a snarky smirk when Niall playfully
insults him.
I can't help the goofy grin on my face every time he throws his
head back,
eyes tightly shut,
and bellows out
a real, happy laugh.
And the realization hits me
like a freight train.
He's beautiful.

No, not just on the outside.
But God, those eyes
are mesmerising.
No, the beauty lies in his interior.
How calm, understanding,
happy, and human he is.
And I only wish to scream
it to the world.

He could light up a dark night
with a glimpse of his smile.
He could fix the broken with a
mere touch of his hand.
And I'm infatuated.

"You okay?" Harry asks, and I
know I've been staring at him for
the past five minutes.
Suddenly it's hard to speak
around him, and I become
conscious of all my flaws
that he could never possess.
I sheepishly tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear and nod.
And I nearly fall backward off
the stool when he winks at me.