anobrain // narry au

and

chapter thirty-three. it's too cold for you here.

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LIAM LOOKS UP FROM his phone, surprised. The feeling is reciprocated as the two of us look at each other with bewildering stares. It feels like forever staring at my "frenemy" with tensional silence until I muster up a deep breath, focusing on the real question at hand.

"Where's Harry?" Liam, nonchalantly, answers, "Kitchen," without stealing another glance from me once more. I don't seem to mind it as I scurry down the stairs like a rodent in the middle of the night — living in someone else's habitat.

It's swift like the sudden pummelling of my heart and the pessimistic thoughts beginning to seep through. Because I thought Liam was forgotten, I thought the both of us moved on from that toxic chapter in our lives about one month ago. And these past weeks have been nothing but soothing without having to worry about tacit competition for Harry's attention ..

Let alone his heart. I wouldn't fight with anyone for a simple-minded guy, but it's Harry. A person I'm finding myself growing attached to. Someone I can see a future with after college comes to a closed end, and university is another opening chapter as a life's experience. That is if university is the perfect decision and choice for me.

Harry's sitting upon the kitchen counter. Face buried in his palm and eyes focused on the illuminated screen of his laptop that's place in the crease of his thighs, on his lap. I observe him for a minute – looking peaceful and focused as he scrolls for a brief sec, only to type  a few incoherent words before scrolling through a page once more. He's so in-depth, Harry doesn't notice my presence. That is until I clear my throat.

He looks up abruptly, alarmed. Then his eyes settle on me, eyeing me up with an unforeseen look in those jade painted eyes. A large smile brushes his lips. "What are you doing here?" he genuinely asks. Not one ounce of judgement in his gaze.

My focus, however, is somewhere else. "What is Liam doing in your room?"

Just as nonchalant. "He asked to hang out and I didn't want to say no." The excuse sounds nothing but irrelevant. I make sure to make that clear to Harry, without the intention of firing up an argument. Especially with Liam causally lying around Harry's bedroom up the stairs.

"We had an agreement, Harry," I comment. "We agreed we wouldn't let Liam back into our lives because all he does is cause drama between everyone." I want to tell Harry he's nothing but toxic, Liam. That he was beginning to slowly ruin friendships including a longterm one with him and Zayn. That if we defenestrate Liam, maybe, just maybe, things will begin to fall back into place.

As it has started before Liam came into the picture. Before the four of us met him later on in secondary going towards the beginning of college. Where everything was simple.

Harry frowns at me prominently. "We didn't do anything if that's what you're hinting," he says. "It was nothing but platonic. We watch To Kill A Mockingbird for our history assignment with a reasonable amount of distance and that was all."

After a hesitant stare down with Harry he slides off the counter with a small sigh. Harry walks towards me, only to wrap my figure in the span of his arms — enclosing me into a hug. The butterflies are cages within my stomach once more. Fluttering around wildly from this simplistic gesture. That's, usually, what Harry does to me, the simplest things that make me jitter and scream and cry all at once from within. I don't mind it.

He inhales a breath, firstly. "I'm sorry, babe," Harry apologises softly, kindly. "I shouldn't have gone against your wishes, Niall, and I'm sorry for doing that." He pulls away discreetly to hold onto my shoulders as Harry eyes me up.

I can prominently feel the heavy burn from his green coloured gaze. Examining and scanning my every feature without any words he want to say. But from the look on Harry's face, I know he's practically reading my thoughts. We've been friends for that long to be able to do this psychological things.

"What's wrong?" he questions. Harry's eyes, not once, leave my face. Though there is a look of concern in his eyes.

With a sigh I move in closer to Harry's jumper. Automatically mumbling the events that recently happen -- the showdown between my father and the scolding I received from my mother. David's engagement ring my father bought for him. How I ran all the way here without parental consent, it all --. "I wouldn't have thought it would worsen, Harry," my voice is muffled from Harry's jumper. "I didn't want this situation to get any worse."

Truthfully, I didn't. My intentional wasn't to have my mother interfere with my frequent, internal perception of my dad. Only by his actions, of course. I didn't want to shout and cause a scene in front of everyone whom watched with appalled eyes. I didn't want to have an out-of-body experience, but I did. And I can't take it back. However I never wanted it to worsen between I and my family.

Harry, instantaneously, becomes the colour turquoise: stimulating and protecting of me. Which is the reaction I was hoping to receive from Harry since I was hesitant to share that with him, of all people. Still I continue to bathe and soak in Harry's scent -- of amber and coconut --, and the scent of warmth and security Harry always gives off.

He wraps his arms around my waist as I his neck. Then we stand in this comforting silence whilst I listen to Harry's steady breathing.

Harry asks, "Do you want to spend another night with me?" Without a subconscious thought I nod into his clothed cover chest. "As long as you kick out Liam," I add.

Harry, responsively, laughs. "I'll kick out Liam," he says jokingly. But in a polite etiquette he does. Leaving the both of us in our usual comfortable atmosphere, with just us two in our own habitual world.

In Harry's maroon coloured jumper I take full ownership of at this point. Cuddled into him, however, as we both watch our favourite American childhood movie, The Wizard of Oz. And I wish I had the characteristics the Tinman has. That unintentional heartless aura he was created with until he met Dorothy and her dog, Toto.

But I'm just like the Cowardly Lion, a coward. Constantly and not only figuratively running away from my problems. Away from the pessimism and cold, cold thoughts. Which isn't my intentions. Just more of a subconscious thing I often do. Still I wish there was a nearby wizard located in Manchester to help me gain some courage as there was one for the Lion in the Land of Oz.

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